Chapter 3 - The Baby Who Died Twice
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because my brain had reached the point where nonsense sounded easier than reality.
“My daughter is alive.”
Mrs. Thornbury looked at Fern.
“I can see that.”
“Then the bracelet didn’t belong to a dead baby.”
“It did.”
“Stop saying that.”
Stellan stepped between us.
“Agnes.”
Mrs. Thornbury straightened.
I had never heard anyone call her by her first name.
Stellan’s voice was quiet.
“Tell me what you know.”
She glanced toward Mercer.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
I saw that too.
“Oh, absolutely not.” I pointed between them. “You two do not get to have a secret conversation with your eyebrows.”
Mercer exhaled.
“Mrs. Hart—”
“Selene.”
“Selene. The bracelet number was assigned at Saint Catherine’s to an infant entered into a restricted family registry.”
“What family?”
He looked at Stellan.
I already knew the answer.
“Cross,” I said.
Mercer nodded.
My stomach dropped.
Stellan went very still.
“Name?” he asked.
Mercer said nothing.
Stellan’s voice hardened.
“Marcus.”
The doctor swallowed.
“Ava Cross.”
I looked at Stellan.
He did not seem dangerous then.
He seemed devastated.
“Who is Ava?” I asked.
His eyes stayed on the bracelet.
“My daughter.”
The words hit me strangely.
“You had a daughter?”
“I was told I did.”
“What does that mean?”
He dragged a hand over his mouth.
“After I left you, I went underground. Six months later, my mother told me a woman had come forward saying she was pregnant with my child.”
My heart kicked hard.
“What woman?”
“I never met her.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“She said she was carrying your baby and you never met her?”
“I was shown medical files. Bloodwork. DNA from an early diagnostic sample.”
Mercer looked sick.
I turned on him.
“You ran the test.”
“Yes.”
“Was the baby his?”
“The sample was genetically consistent.”
“Was the woman real?”
“I never saw her.”
I almost shouted.
Stellan’s face darkened.
“Ava was born at Saint Catherine’s. I was told she had severe respiratory complications and died after two days.”
Fern began playing with the button on my blouse.
Her breathing had settled.
My mind had not.
“You buried her?” I asked.
Stellan’s voice dropped.
“Yes.”
“Did you see the body?”
Silence.
I looked at him.
“Stellan.”
“No.”
The anger came so fast it burned through my fear.
“You buried a child you never saw?”
“I was under federal investigation, there had been two attempts on my life, and my father insisted the funeral stay private.”
“Your father.”
He said nothing.
That told me enough.
Mercer’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
The first lab result was back.
Too fast for the independent lab. This was Stellan’s private facility.
Mercer read it once.
Then again.
Stellan stepped closer.
“Well?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Fern is your biological daughter.”
The room disappeared.
My hands began shaking.
Stellan closed his eyes.
Just for one second.
Fern reached toward him.
I wanted to run.
I also wanted to hit him.
Mostly I wanted the last two years to stop rearranging themselves in my head.
Mercer continued.
“But there’s another problem.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course there is.”
He turned the tablet toward us.
Fern’s DNA profile had triggered a duplicate identity alert.
Same biological markers.
Same neonatal blood card.
Same hospital collection date.
Different name.
AVA CROSS — DECEASED.
I stared at the screen.
Stellan whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Mercer shook his head.
“No. It means the blood used to prove Ava existed came from Fern.”
My skin went cold.
Someone had created a dead baby using my daughter’s blood.
And they had done it before I ever brought Fern home.
---
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
If you enjoyed the story, bookmark my site: https://metro.treeiq.biz
May you like
New stories are posted daily, so check back for updates.
